


fences

by f0rt1ss1m0



Category: Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Day At The Beach, Divergent Chapter 11 Rewrite, F/M, Faction Relations, Four says fuck, Lake Michigan Lives AU, Mild Sexual Content, Peter gets some from an Amity chick, Teens being teens, kinda niche but hey if you're a peter fucker this might be the twoshot for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rt1ss1m0/pseuds/f0rt1ss1m0
Summary: It's said that Amity and Dauntless will never mix. But, you know, the only way to keep folks from boning is to build an actual wall.The Dauntless initiates take a field trip. Tris reunites with Abnegation friends. Peter meets his match. And, of course, Four says fuck.
Relationships: Four | Tobias Eaton/Tris Prior, Peter Hayes (Divergent)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Tris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sawsbuck Coffee (RosesAndTheInternet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesAndTheInternet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Transcendent: Divergent Rewritten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854635) by [f0rt1ss1m0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rt1ss1m0/pseuds/f0rt1ss1m0). 



> I...literally have no words to describe what this is. i'm actually not expecting people to read this, but I kind of want the satisfaction of having published something again. I wrote over 10,000 words in 2 days and I'm proud of it. 
> 
> Essentially: Sawsbuck Coffee and I started talking about our Divergent rewrites (The Fateless and Transcendent, respectively) and how fucking neat it would be if we were to create a crossover series called Transcending Fate. We're still working on that, in part because we got distracted. Over the course of our brainstorming, we:  
> 1.) spun up a Magnus Archives crossover-turned-original story plot,  
> 2.) started a D&D campaign with our characters,  
> 3.) generated possibly dozens of pages of Lysander Morris-centric smut,  
> 4.) declared our love and started dating,  
> and 5.) created a second crossover series called Spectrum.
> 
> All this to say, there is a greater AU somewhere, the Spectrum AU, where Mimette Malachite goes to Erudite, Tris and Phoebe exist simultaneously, Tris still goes to Dauntless and Phoebe goes to Amity. This is that AU. 
> 
> Just...take it.

“Welcome to Picket,” said Four. “If you’re lucky enough to escape street patrol, but not enough to make it in the top ten, you might end up here.” 

He motioned for the group of initiates to follow him, then turned and hopped off the platform. With only a low murmur of chatter, the Dauntless trailed behind him. Tris found herself with Christina and Will near the front of the group. The train platform was at the center of what looked like a village — a cluster of weathered warehouses and squat homes with peaked red roofs, surrounded on the right and left by cropland. Behind the village, stretching further than Tris could see, was a tall chain-link fence. Even at a distance, the sun glimmered off the coils of barbed wire at the tops. Beyond the fence were trees.

They were in the village square, an industrial part of town. Tris was not the only one surprised. She had expected to see Amity here, all of those bright reds and yellows, bustling around with baskets of fruit and wagons of supplies. She hadn’t expected Dauntless, those black-clad shadows mingling among the wash of earth tones, helping farmers unload heavy packages and secure cargo inside of large rectangular trucks. When the Amity noticed the flock of fledgling Dauntless, they called out cheerful greetings — but then, so did the Dauntless. The initiates murmured some more. 

As Four herded them out of the way of the workers, Tris couldn’t help but stare. Not far from her, a portly woman in a yellow dress shared a pear with a scar-faced man in army fatigues. She said something that made him shake his head, laughing. 

The sight was jarring. Tris had never seen so many Amity and Dauntless in the same place. Much less working together in harmony. She had always been taught that of all the factions, Amity and Dauntless were the ones most at odds, that it was unfathomable to mix them. That was why the factions had to be separate. And yet here was the town of Picket. 

“You’re here today for a few reasons,” said Four. “The first is to motivate you. If you don’t want to end up here, then I want to see better scores.”

Someone snickered. Tris didn’t see what was so funny about it. Picket didn’t seem so bad. 

Four continued. “If you’re stationed here, you have a few jobs — firstly, to help the Amity; secondly, to guard the fence; and thirdly, to patrol outside.”

“Patrol for what, exactly?” asked Will.

“I suppose you’ll find out if you choose this post,” said Four. “Which brings me to the second reason you’re here. Some of the locals have been called out to patrol the border, leaving the Amity a bit short staffed. You’re loading cargo today.”

Protests burst up from the initiates. “Are you kidding me?” said Christina. “We’re here to pack fruit?”

Peter snorted. “Yeah. Next we’ll hold hands and sing a campfire song.”

Tris was the only person who saw how Four’s face went from indifferent to incensed in a second. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, making the initiates and some of the passerby flinch. 

“Will you all _SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”_ Four snapped. 

Tris hadn’t flinched at the whistle, but she did at the curse. She’d never heard Four swear before. Once he had their attention, Four gave a few very pointed glares towards most of the Candor. 

“Thanks,” he said shortly. “Now, as I was saying, we’re here to fulfill a need. This will come as a shock to you, but Dauntless life isn’t all jumping off trains and being a hero. Most of the time, Dauntless is knowing how to shut your mouth, control yourself, and _do what you’re told._ So you know what, I want you all to be perfect little angels today. You’re going to be polite — no, you’re going to be _nice_ to your hosts, because that’s orders. Got it?”

The initiates went silent. Then they begrudgingly echoed the “got it”. Four nodded and turned. 

“Glad we’re on the same page. Right, everyone roll up your sleeves, produce trucks incoming.”

As he said it, three large green trucks trundled into the square, escorted by several smaller pickup trucks. Suddenly the place erupted in a flurry of activity, Amity and Dauntless alike leaping into action to shout orders and guide people into place. Before Tris knew it, she was being pulled towards a line of people who were unloading huge crates onto dolleys. 

Granted, this wasn’t what she expected to be doing with her day. But soon Tris found herself actually getting into the rhythm of things, helping a stout Amity man with a long white beard securing the crates. It was almost familiar. A lot of volunteer projects in Abnegation were like this, loading and unloading supplies for the factionless. But sadness pricked at her heart as she pushed a finished dolley towards an Amity woman. The woman thanked her cheerfully, but Tris felt no warmth from the gratitude. She didn’t know this woman. Maybe one day, if Tris chose to live here, she _could_ know her. The strangers’ faces around her could become familiar, and all parts of this would be home. But until then, she was alone.

She had only just thought that when she heard her name. 

“Beatrice?”

Tris whirled around. One of the Amity’s pickup trucks was nearby, its bed also stuffed full of crates and crawling with teenagers. One of them was standing straight, looking at her. He had curly blond hair and a familiar nose, wide at the tip and narrow at the bridge. Robert. 

Tris inhaled. Robert was Amity. She tried to remember him at the Choosing Ceremony, but nothing came to mind except the sound of her heart in her ears. Who else transferred? Caleb did, but what about Susan? Or Theophilus, and what about — 

“Bee!” Something small and red barreled into Tris, nearly knocking the wind out of her. When the thing pulled back, Tris found herself staring at a freckled face, golden eyes, and a bush of curly hair.

“Phoebe?” Tris said, stunned. “You’re — you’re here?”

Phoebe grinned. She looked like a completely different person, wearing maroon overalls that matched her scarlet hair. There was a daisy tucked behind her ear. “You’re one to talk. Look at you, _Dauntless!_ Ay, Bobsled, get over here!”

Robert was already coming, weaving through the crowds of people and waving. Briefly, Tris met the eyes of the white-bearded Amity man, who gave her a soft smile, nodded, and moved his crate for a different Dauntless to take. Once Tris, Phoebe, and Robert were out of the way, Robert moved towards Tris and gave her a hug as well. That had been unexpected. Phoebe was always a hugger, but not Robert. Tris barely moved a muscle until he released her.

“It’s so good to see you,” said Robert.

“You too,” said Tris awkwardly.

Robert beamed, but the smile faded when he met her eyes. It looked like he wanted to say something until Phoebe cut him off, clutching Tris’s hand.

“You look great!” said Phoebe. “Seriously, your hair? Is that a real tattoo?”

“It’s real,” Tris replied. “And — Phoebe, your hair, I don’t know what to say.”

“Isn’t it neat?” She shook it out and the curls bounced around her face. The daisy slid out, but Tris reached over and tucked it back in. 

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you! I know! God, it’s so nice being able to say that.”

“We’re working on positive self image this week,” Robert explained. “It’s…easier for some people than others.”

Phoebe clicked her tongue. “Positive image of self leads to positive image of others, and positive relationships overall.”

“But not without moderation,” he added. 

“Please. Anyway, Beatrice, I’m really sorry but I might just go flirt with your friends. All of you are _really_ pretty.”

Tris’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh,” left her mouth before she could stop it. Then, before she could think of the ramifications, she asked, “Which…which ones?”

Robert made a small, uncomfortable noise. His face was turning pink. Phoebe didn’t seem to notice as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Mm…I’ll start with that tall one, maybe,” she said. “With the nice hair.”

Tris followed her gaze. The tallest initiate was Al, but his hair wasn’t that nice. “Him?”

“What?”

“The one carrying the bags of flour.”

“Black jacket? No, not him. _Him._ By the produce truck, ripped sleeves.” 

“ _Peter?!”_ Tris spluttered.

Phoebe smiled. “Mm. Peter. He looks sweet.”

“Your taste in men could not be worse.”

“He was looking at me earlier. Phoebe likey.”

“Please, please, please do not flirt with Peter. I’m serious.” 

“Oh, would you relax?” Phoebe laughed and turned back to Tris, putting her arm over her shoulder. “We’re not in Abnegation anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know! We have so many more options now, did you know that we’re allowed to kiss people we’re not married to? Not just in Amity, it’s literally _everywhere else_ that’s not Abnegation.”

“Phoebe,” Robert cut in.

Phoebe stopped. “Right. I’m sorry. Sarcasm isn’t very kind.”

Tris got the feeling that even if Phoebe said that, she didn’t agree with it. But that only raised the question, what else didn’t she agree with? “This isn’t about Abnegation,” she said. “I’m just saying that you can pick better people.”

“But there’s the thing. I can _pick,”_ said Phoebe. She put both hands on Tris’s shoulders. “That’s something we could never do.”

“I know. I know.”

“I — I don’t have to take my dad’s advice on what boy to marry, I don’t have to step out of the way if someone else likes the same one, hey, I don’t even have to like men! I mean. I do. I really like men. But I can like women, too. And it’s not selfish, that’s who I am. Isn’t that great?”

Tris’s head was spinning. She hadn’t actually thought about that until now. Of course, she’d noticed the new freedom, but it was a different thing to see it in action. That wild light in Phoebe’s eyes, once just a spark, now seemed to burn out of control. She sounded happy. Tris wanted to believe that she was happy. But it was almost overwhelming to think about. Paired with the sheer shock of Phoebe wanting to go after _Peter,_ of all people…well, it was a lot. 

Robert put his hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “Give her space.”

“It’s fine,” said Tris. She sighed. Then she forced a smile. “Yeah. It’s pretty great. I’m proud of you.”

“Sorry,” said Phoebe.

“I said it’s fine. But, listen, about Peter…” 

Tris inhaled, wanting to tell Phoebe everything. The bruises pulsed with pain when she closed her eyes. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Hey, Bobby!” 

They all turned. An Amity girl with a long black braid was standing on the roof of the yellow pickup truck. “Yeah?” Robert said. He sounded like he was struggling to raise his voice over the commotion of the square, but the girl still saw it.

“Where’s Pheebs?” she called.

“Oh! Right here! Selena!” Phoebe yelled. When Selena frowned, Phoebe clambered onto a nearby box and waved her arms. “Whaddya need?”

“Sunflower’s empty, we should move her. Where’s the keys?”

“I got ‘em! Be right there!” Phoebe gave a big thumbs up, and Selena responded in kind. Then she climbed back down and gave Tris a second crushing hug. “I’m really sorry, gotta dash.”

“Wait — Phoebe — ”

“No lectures during hug. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Tris echoed. Phoebe didn’t let go, burying her face in Tris’s shoulder a little longer before pulling back with a grin.

“I’ll see you again, right?” said Phoebe.

“Yeah,” said Tris. “We’ll catch up.”

“I’m going to hold you on that. Bobby, do me a huge one and convince her to join the Picket so we can keep her. Or, hey, Major Crimes — I’m doing some sort of inmate counseling internship with the police, I’ll tell you all about it later, love you so much bye!”

Then, quick as she came, Phoebe was gone again. Still a little bewildered, Tris watched as Phoebe clambered into the driver’s seat of the bright yellow pickup truck and started the engine. At Tris’s side, Robert gave a soft chuckle. 

“Well, as you can see,” he said, “Phoebe’s doing well.”

“Yeah,” said Tris hesitantly. “She’s...different.”

“We all are,” said Robert slowly. It was at that when his brow tightened again, an unasked question. His eyes traveled down, from her eyes to her split lip. “Um…actually, I wanted to ask. Are you okay?”

Tris turned away, letting her hair fall around her face in a motion that she hoped would seem casual. “I said I’m fine.”

“Beatrice, what happened to you? What happened to your face?”

“Nothing. Just training. Nothing.”

That was the instinct, wasn’t it, to brush it off as nothing. To divert the attention to someone else’s pain. Maybe once, Robert would have accepted that. But his brow just furrowed tighter as he put his hand on Tris’s shoulder. That was new, too. He’d never done that before.

“You know what? Fine.” Tris huffed and pushed her shoulders back. “I guess, since you’re all that Phoebe has now, might as well say it. So you know what she’s getting into. These are gifts from Peter.”

Robert inhaled. 

“A sparring match,” Tris said. “Though for most of it, he was just kicking my body around the floor.” 

With every word, Robert’s eyes grew wider. He covered his mouth. “Oh, Beatrice…”

He reached to touch her again, but Tris’s eyes caught on something. Not far away, Drew and Molly were watching her, their beady eyes glinting with something she didn’t like. Peter was nowhere to be seen, which she didn’t like either. Tris pushed Robert’s hand away and folded her arms.

“Stop. It was normal training, I know what I signed up for.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re lonely,” he said, his voice breaking. “Is everyone in Dauntless like him? Like Peter?”

“I’m not lonely. No. There’s good people there.”

“But there are bad people too.”

“There are bad people everywhere.”

“You could go home,” said Robert. “I’m sure Abnegation would make an exception for you.”

Tris stopped. Something about that wasn’t right. At first her response was sadness. She had been thinking about home before Robert and Phoebe noticed her. _If only I could go home._ But the second part made her angry. They wouldn’t make an exception for Tris, no, that wasn’t normal. Unless — no. Robert couldn’t know she was Divergent. That she, supposedly, could fit into Abnegation as well. He couldn’t know.

“What makes you think I want to go home?” she asked, her cheeks hot. “You think I can’t handle this?”

“It’s not that.” Robert shook his head. “But you shouldn’t have to. You should be happy.”

“And who says I’m not?”

“I’m studying psychology, Beatrice. I want to become a counselor. Sometimes you don’t need to say something for it to be clear.”

“You don’t know what’s in my head,” Tris snapped.

At that, Robert went quiet. In the village square, some of the Amity trucks started their engines and began to move. Phoebe’s yellow truck was nowhere to be seen, and Robert briefly glanced over to where the other pickup trucks were being cleared of the last crates. Tris took a deep breath.

“This is what I chose,” she told him. “And I got what I paid for. Not everyone’s goal in life is just to...be happy.”

Again, Robert was quiet. His eyes were sad. From one truck, someone called his name, his nickname, that thing that belonged to a different person, and he gave Tris one last, sad smile.

“But wouldn’t it be easier if it was?” he said.

Then he left. Tris watched as he climbed into the bed of the truck, sitting next to a girl with a ukelele. Three boys came in and sat on the other side of Robert, one of them slinging his arm over his shoulder. As the truck started forward, the girl began to strum, and her warbling voice lifted on the summer breeze. Robert met Tris’s eyes. He waved.

She didn’t wave back. 

Late into the afternoon, the work was finally complete, and the weary Dauntless initiates crawled into the freight cars at last. The once-empty cars were now packed full with flour parcels and fruit crates. There wasn’t enough room for any large groups to sit together, but Tris wasn’t feeling particularly social, so she found a car free of other initiates, sat near the opening, and let the wind cool her face. 

Once the train returned to a yard, the initiates got out for the short walk home. It was starting to occur more regularly that Tris found herself walking besides Four — most of the time in mutual silence. From afar, she watched Christina, Al, and Will tell dramatic stories about something or other. She liked that company, most of the time. But today it didn’t feel right. 

After a while, Four broke the silence with, “I am worried that you have a knack for unwise decisions.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” said Tris. “Fraternizing with my old faction, or being rude to our hosts?”

Four raised an eyebrow. “All of it.”

“It was a ten-minute conversation.”

“I don’t think a smaller time frame makes it any less unwise.” Tris rolled her eyes at that. If Four saw it, he didn’t comment. “Also, I’ve been meaning to ask, you were the only one in the back car.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if Peter was with you. No one’s seen him since we left Amity.”

“If he was in the car with me,” said Tris, “I would have pushed him off.”

A very strange noise came from Four. Tris looked up in surprise. Then she saw a very strange look on Four’s face. A smile. Which had followed a laugh. “That,” he said, “is precisely why I asked.”

“I didn’t actually,” said Tris, startled by the laugh, but Four shook his head.

“He’ll turn up eventually. Don’t stress about it.”

Tris’s shoulders relaxed. She thought about Peter stuck in Amity, waving his arms frantically as the train left without him. The image almost made her smile. “Oh, I won’t.”

“No,” said Four. “No, I didn’t think you would.”


	2. Phoebe

Her back slammed against the wall, the wooden boards stinging her bare skin. Phoebe yelped. It was her first breath of fresh air in a while, though it was unpleasantly humid, and the only taste she could recognize was sand. The breath lasted only a second before Peter’s mouth was on hers again.

His kiss was hot and hungry and sweet. He tasted like the peaches they’d stolen before speeding away in the Sunflower, and their lips were still sticky from the last one they shared together. His hands moved down, down, below her waist, and her stomach flipped as he suddenly hoisted her off the ground. 

“Ah!” she gasped. Then the gasp turned into a moan when Peter pressed up close to her, pinning her between the wall and his body. “Oh…yes, yes!”

He moved his mouth down, scraping his teeth along her neck. “Heh, you like that?” he purred, and bit down hard. In response, her back arched. Her nails dug into the flesh of his back (his lovely, strong back, freshly marked with ink in the pattern of a wolf). 

“Yes, Peter, you’re so strong, I want more, please!”

He seemed to like that. When he snapped his hips forward again, Phoebe cried out. Peter chuckled and lowered her, but only to nip at the shell of her ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh yes, yes,  _ fuck!”  _

It was late in the afternoon. At some places inside the small wooden shed, they could feel the light sea breeze coming in from off the lake. This was a special place. Phoebe first saw it during the driving lessons with Ellie, driving for miles around the Amity fields with the radio blaring. They’d stopped for a break near the coast, and Phoebe had caught a glimpse of this little haven. 

The shed was small and sturdy, its baby blue paint chipped and fading. On one side, hanging above a panel of closed metal shutters, was a sign reading _SUMMER_ _FUN HUT._ A wire fence surrounded the beach and trapped the shed inside. Phoebe hadn’t been able to explore back then, as Ellie did not approve of trespassing, but Peter had been more than willing to ignore the Private Property sign and crawl under a broken portion of the fence. When they had found the back door padlocked, he was even going to break it open, but Phoebe found some loose pieces of wire and the lock came off with ease. Seconds later, their clothes did the same thing. 

Though the place wasn’t perfect. Along the back wall were several disused kayaks that they had believed to be securely fastened, only for a nasty surprise while trying out wall sex. After no small amount of screaming, they decided to keep the sex firmly on the ground.

Not long later, Peter lay with his head on her chest. Her fingers were still threaded through his hair. An old, now sweaty tarp was the only thing between her and the floor. Between herself and Peter was more sweat, and then something else thick and sticky ( _ right,  _ she thought to herself,  _ that’s something that people do so they don’t get pregnant. Thanks for nothing, abstinence-only sex ed _ ). 

She wasn’t sure if she came or not — she still didn’t know if, when she tried to do it herself, she was doing it right. But she didn’t mind. She never imagined she’d like this so much, having someone’s full weight pressing into her. Making her feel so light she could fly. When Peter pulled back, there was a soft smile on his face, a kind of contentment in those green eyes. He was happy. She’d never made someone so happy before. 

Without realizing it, she was grinning. Peter raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Phoebe. “I’m just…” She tried to put words together. That was hard. She settled for laughing and planting a kiss to his lips. “I’m happy.”

“Yeah. Me too.” When he kissed her back, she looped her arms behind his neck and held him close. 

They stayed like that for a while before Phoebe said, “Although...this is so embarrassing, but…”

“What?”

“What was your name again? I’m sorry.”

Peter stared at her, speechless, for only a half second before Phoebe burst into laughter again. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” she said, reaching to pull him back. “I am completely and totally kidding, please come back.”

“Okay,” said Peter, “ _ that  _ was good.”

“Aw. Thanks.”

“I hate you. But that was good.”

She just hummed as he settled down beside her on the tarp, and she curled up under his arm. Some parts of sex were…strange. There were a lot of things that, when she came upon them, she wasn’t sure how to do. But this came naturally, and it felt right. 

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll never forget your name, Patrick.”

Peter buried his face in his hands. 

They stayed there for a while, cuddling naked on the floor of the Summer Fun Hut. Eventually, Phoebe grew curious, and for a while just looted through old cardboard boxes of moth-eaten towels and unused pool floaties until she found a pack of paper napkins. Those she used to clean up herself, although she still remarked aloud that she felt disgusting. Peter agreed. He still sat on the floor, leaning against the counter as he watched her rummage. He didn’t say anything, but that smile still lingered on his lips. Whenever she met his eyes, it couldn’t help but grow wider. 

She teased him about having a crush. He teased her about thinking that he had a crush on her. She threw a deflated pool floatie at him, which fell short of its target. He tried to blow it up, but there was a hole in the seam, so it turned into only disappointment. 

After a quick survey that the coast was clear, they ran for the water. It was freezing, but the sun was still hot, and once they both dunked each other under the waves, they barely noticed the cold. Only when they decided they were tired and wanted to get dry did they realize that they had no usable towels, or even clean clothes. So they found a large, flat rock and lay in the sun until they were dry, and even once they were they continued to bake until the sun started dipping too low to provide much warmth. 

Phoebe had noticed, scattered amongst the pebbles and the sand, small stones that almost looked like gems. She’d seen it before, sea glass. Old shards of broken bottles and other litter, tossed and turned in the waves until it was polished smooth. When she was younger, sometimes Mom and Dad would take them to the beach to search for them. It was technically litter, so taking as much as they wanted was okay. She and Peter walked barefoot in the same direction along the beach, picking out the sea glass and tucking them into their pockets. Sometimes they let their hands join if they walked together, but only for a short while. They both preferred to roam. 

At one point, he tossed her a pinkish one. “Check it out,” he said. “It looks like a heart.”

Phoebe studied it. “More like a bean,” she said. He blew her a kiss and she rolled her eyes.

She tossed the sea glass back to him, but he jogged up to her and folded it inside her hand. “Nope. Keep it.”

Her cheeks went warm. “Real romantic. Take me to dinner first.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

She laughed, but fell quiet. Peter was right. It was too late for a lot of things. Too late to undo anything that had already been done. Desperately, Phoebe tried to push the guilt out of her mind, but it was too late. Her stomach clenched as she looked at her hand, fingers entwined with Peter’s.

_ It’s not supposed to be like this,  _ said a little voice in her head. It was supposed to be a year of polite courting, dinner with each other’s parents, a quiet ceremony with a pastor. It wasn’t supposed to be sly glances across the village square, barely ten minutes of flirting against the door of her truck, fearless groping and innuendo while speeding down a country road. They hadn’t taken a single moment to think about what they were doing; they just did it. Followed what felt right. And it led her here. During the past couple weeks, Phoebe had heard nothing but good things about following what felt right, but the guilt was still cold and heavy in her gut. 

Whatever face she had made, it must have been obvious. Or maybe Peter was just that perceptive. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she said automatically.

“Okay, is that an Amity thing, saying that every time someone asks what’s up, or is that just you?”

“Actually. An Abnegation thing.”

“Hold up.” Peter shook his head and turned, walking backwards so as to face her. “You’re  _ Abnegation?” _

Phoebe was stunned. She caught a glimpse of green and knelt to pick up a perfectly round piece of sea glass, putting it in her pocket. “Wasn’t it obvious?” she said. 

“What’s your definition of obvious?” said Peter. 

“What  _ didn’t _ give it away? I apologize all the time, I don’t know how sex works, what? What did you think I was?”

“I don’t know! I’m just saying, I know Stiffs, and they’re not like you.”

Phoebe sighed. Right. Beatrice. “You’ve known one,” she said. “And contrary to common belief, we’re not all frigid and noble under the grey robes. Let’s be honest here. The Priors are just like that.”

That seemed to be a surprise to Peter, whose eyes were wide as he stopped. Phoebe kept roaming, picking up several more pieces of sea glass. They were damp and were starting to soak through the heavy pockets of her overalls, but she didn’t mind. 

“And in any case,” she continued, “I’m not Abnegation anymore. I guess I’m Amity now.”

“You guess?”

“I am,” Phoebe corrected herself. Then she added defensively, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about. Doesn’t this all feel…I don’t know, not real sometimes? Like you’re going to wake up and you’ll be in your bed at home?”

Peter was looking down. He dragged his toes through the wet sand, carving a shallow trench, and a second later the water came in and smoothed it out. He bent down and picked up a piece of blue sea glass. 

“I guess,” he said at last. 

“You guess.”

“Hey. Don’t you start.”

She smirked. After a while, she remarked, “Brown, white, and green are the most common types of sea glass. Blue’s kinda rare.”

“Is it, now.”

“Yeah. That one’s really pretty.”

He tossed it to her and she caught it. “I mean, I guess it’s a little weird,” said Peter. “I’ve always known I would end up here. Not here, the beach, I mean, Dauntless.”

“Where were you before?”

“Candor.” He bent down again, but this time to pick up a stone. He hurled it out onto the lake, as if to skip it, but it hit a wave crest and sank. 

“If it’s not too personal, can I ask why you left?”

“Why wouldn’t I leave?”

“Well…your family is there.”

“Whatever.” He picked up another stone and waited for the water to settle down between waves, then flicked it. It skipped three times. “I mean…look, they’re nice people. But they never  _ got  _ me. They’re always asking, they wanted to know everything about me all of the time, but it never made sense to them. They didn’t understand.”

Phoebe was quiet. That was something she understood. 

“And they’re all so annoying _.  _ They talk so much, and they say so much nothing. I hate paperwork, but that’s all they do, they never actually do anything themselves. Just shuffling other factions around and being a pain in the ass all the time. What kind of question is that? You wanna pick Candor, you wanna be a crossing guard in a tie for the rest of your life?”

Despite herself, she laughed. “That doesn’t sound so bad. At least you get to dress up nice.”

“Let me rephrase that. Do you want to be a crossing guard in a tie? If so, how do you feel about getting naked on live television?”

“Heh. What’s so bad about making your classmates jealous?”

“I — wait.”

“Yes.”

“Was that — ”

“Yes, it was.”

“Oh. Well…thanks.”

“It’s true!”

“Yeah, it is, and look, I always appreciate a good dick joke. But that doesn’t make it not weird to hear. I cannot believe that you were a Stiff.”

“So I  _ was  _ a Stiff, but Beatrice doesn’t get that pass?” said Phoebe, putting a hand on her hip. Peter snorted. 

“Beatrice?”

“Is she going by a different name now?”

“Yeah. Tris.”

“Cute.”

“So, wait, you know her?” 

“Yeah, mixed girls with weird hair and perfect brothers, ‘course we knew each other.”

“Are you — still talking to her?”

Phoebe frowned. There was something not right in the way he said that. As if he was suspicious. “Why do you care?”

“I’m just curious — ”

“She doesn’t seem to like you very much,” Phoebe cut him off. “Does she have a reason?”

Peter hesitated. His eyes flicked away from hers and he said, “I don’t think so, I’ve barely talked to her. Are you sure she was talking about me?”

She inclined her chin. “Maybe you should have stayed in Candor,” she said, “because you’re a piss-poor liar.”

Then she kept walking. A second later, Peter jogged up to her and took her hand. She pulled her hand away and squatted down to dig in the sand. 

“Hey. Hey, look, I’m sorry,” said Peter quickly. “I don’t know why you’re mad, but I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m not mad,” said Phoebe simply. She didn’t look up and Peter just stood awkwardly before kneeling in front of her. 

“Is this about Tris?”

”Yes. But I’d rather talk about something else.”

“Are you saying that because you’re Amity?”

“I’m saying that because  _ I’m not mad _ ,” Phoebe said, losing patience. “Whatever happened between you and Beatrice — between you and Tris, that’s for you to discuss. I can’t hold a grudge on her behalf.”

“So what’s the problem?” said Peter.

Phoebe met his eyes. Now she didn’t look away. “There is no problem. Because — and I’ll say it one last time — I am not angry with you, Peter.”

“Well, you’re certainly something.” When Phoebe stood up, Peter followed. “Phoebe, please, I’m sorry.”

“I have a question. Do you say sorry because you feel guilty, or because it makes people more likely to trust you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just a question.”

“Okay,” Peter laughed, but there was no humor in it. He was speechless for a while, and Phoebe let him sit in that until he broke out of it. “ _ Okay.  _ Let’s unpack that real quick.”

“By all means.”

“First of all, that’s — very rude, actually, especially when I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Rude seems to be your native language. I’m trying to be accommodating.”

“That’s also very rude.”

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Second of all, I never said that you could trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Good! You shouldn’t.”

“And I decide a little more, every second, that I won’t.”

“So why are you mad?”

“Why do you keep asking if I’m mad?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything!”

That was it. Phoebe turned to him and folded her arms. “You know what, Peter?” she said. 

Peter folded his arms as well. “What?”

“You’re as dense as dog shit.”

That got him to shut up. Phoebe’s eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t mad before, but ohh, you’re really testing me now,” she told him. “Let’s look back, shall we? You ask what’s on my mind. I evade, because that’s what we’re taught to do in Abnegation, not burden each other with our problems. But I’m a different person now. Maybe I wanted to tell you. Then you made it penultimately clear that you’re not interested in hearing it.”

“I never said — ”

“Excuse me. I was talking. I don’t know what happened between you and Beatrice. That’s none of my business. But I can draw conclusions from what I know about her and what I know about you, and I can see four things very clearly. One: that your relationship is not a friendly one. Two: that your relationship is grounded in misconceptions that she holds about Candor, and misconceptions that you hold about Abnegation. Three: that I am not immune from these misconceptions, even if you say that I am, because you are a stranger who met me six hours ago. And four: that trusting a stranger with my inmost thoughts is opening myself up to more misconceptions, and therefore, more conflict, which is something I don’t care for.”

She was trembling. Not because she was afraid. No, this was something else. She was a handspan away from Peter now, her chin tilted up to account for the ten inches of height he had over her, but no, she was not afraid one bit. Something hot and alive rushed through her veins as she met his green eyes and saw it — that finally, he understood something. 

She stepped back. It was getting dark. The sun lingered at the horizon, the sky turning into strips of orange and pink. Phoebe looked down at her bare feet, crusted with sand. She’d left her sandals by the hut, but when she turned, she could not see it. They had walked so far.

Finally, Peter burst, “So, what? That’s all you have to say? That you don’t want to talk to me?”

“Yeah,” said Phoebe. “I’m glad you were listening.”

“And that’s it?” He held out his hands to the sides and looked up, as if the sky had a different answer for him. “We’re done? That’s it?”

“Until I know that I can trust you,” Phoebe retorted. “Until you’re honest with me, and until I know that you’ll treat me differently than you treat Beatrice, whatever that’s like, until I’m not — not throwing myself out there at someone who doesn’t take me seriously. But I doubt that will happen.”

“But I can, I know you’re different from her, I’m not blind! I just don’t see why you’re reacting like this — ”

“Because you don’t know anything about me.”

“Well — maybe I want to!”

Phoebe inhaled. The waves came up, the white foam washing around their feet. But now Peter didn’t look away. So she let him look.

“And maybe I’m not mad,” she replied. “Maybe I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” he asked.

She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s a can you’re not prepared to open.”

A curl of her hair blew across her face. The winds were beginning to change. Her stomach was tight, her only food since lunch being the peaches, and the heat of the day was gone. Shakily, she sighed, then turned back in the direction of the hut. 

“We should get you home,” she said.

After a few seconds, she realized that he was not following. She turned. Peter still stood there on the sand, his hands in his pockets. 

“Are you coming?” Phoebe asked. When he didn’t respond, she raised her voice over the waves and the wind. “I can leave you here, you know!”

“Do you remember the first year of Mid Levels?” Peter called.

“What about them?”

“That was the first year we had to change for gym,” he continued.

“Peter, what are you talking about?”

“On the second week of that year, I lost my polo shirt. I looked fucking everywhere, I swear, maybe someone stole it, maybe they put it in their gym bag, I don’t know. But what I did know was that I had no shirt except my sweaty uniform gym shirt, and that in the next period I sat next to Aletheia Albright, who, I don’t know if you’ve met her, but she’s a total hottie. So you know how I got out of it?”

“How?”

“If you turn on one of the air dryers in the bathroom, and you cover up the vent on the side, the coils inside the dryer get red hot. Then you shoot some body spray through the air current, position some Dauntless kid’s gym bag underneath, and boom, instant fireball.”

Phoebe’s hand went over her mouth. She vaguely remembered being hustled out of class for a fire alarm. The fire brigade had been in the building for at least an hour, and by the time they were done, the teachers just told everyone to go home. 

“That was you?” she said, incredulous. 

Peter nodded. “That was me. No one found out, but if they did, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

A laugh burst from Phoebe’s mouth. “Oh my god,” she said. “Oh wow.” The thought of a gym bag fireball was quite jarring, actually. Phoebe almost forgot what they’d been doing before. She shook her head and raised an eyebrow at Peter. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“No reason,” said Peter. “Just felt you’d like to know.”

Phoebe took that in. She was starting to see what Peter was getting at. But she kind of wanted to see how far he’d go with it. 

“Your secrets are kind of badass,” she said finally. “And I doubt you’d get in trouble for that now.”

“So?”

“Is that really the best secret you could tell me?”

He grimaced, then pressed his lips into a reluctant smile. “Fine. Here. I wet the bed until I was nine. No problem during the day, but at night I wouldn’t even wake up. Bed’s so comfy, so warm.”

Phoebe snorted. “Okay, that’s disgusting.”

Slowly, Peter started making his way towards her. “One more,” he said. “I miss my mom. Like, I miss her so much, I miss her cooking, and her stupid home renovation shows, and, wow, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss when she would drive me to school, she had this white sedan with every dumb bumper sticker.”

His voice cracked, and he blinked hard. By the time he composed himself and cleared his throat, he was only a few steps away. 

“You know. Stuff like,  _ ‘My child is a graduate of Veritas Preschool’. ‘If you don’t like my driving, stay off the sidewalk.’ _ And then she’d honk her horn and embarrass me in front of everyone. I even miss that, and that’s — that’s the first time I’ve said that. Wow. And I’m realizing that I feel bad. As if I don’t love my mom enough. It’s not like I have anyone to tell — I mean, I have friends, but fuck, I wouldn’t tell them this. And I’m realizing that, heh, wow, that’s bullshit. God. This got out of control. Shit.”

Phoebe threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tight. Initially, he tensed up, but after a few moments relaxed, and his hands rested around her waist. She could feel him trembling.

She’d done a lot of crying for her parents in the last few days of her life, and the well of grief still seemed neverending. She could only imagine how deep it would run when neglected. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, shifting her embrace. He seemed to like it when she stroked his hair, so she stood on her tiptoes and reached up. “Go ahead and cry. It’s normal.”

Peter didn’t say anything. He didn’t make a sound at all. So Phoebe just held him.

She led him to a piece of driftwood, half buried on the sand. They sat. Phoebe rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Peter said. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She met his eyes, which were watery. “Why’s that?”

“Wasn’t supposed to be a pity party.”

“That’s okay.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. I…I get it. Missing them.” Phoebe sighed. “I think most people do. But it takes a lot of courage to say it.”

She laced her fingers through his and squeezed. In response, he lifted then and tentatively pressed his lips to Phoebe’s hand, which sent a strange, but nice sort of shiver down her back. 

“I don’t understand you,” said Peter. 

“Thanks,” said Phoebe dryly. 

“It’s not a bad thing. But, you know, it's impossible to predict what you’re going to say, and that’s not easy.”

“Heh. I’ve been told.”

“Can I tell you one last thing?”

“Of course.”

Even though he’d asked, he still hesitated before he said it. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Peter said finally. “Sex. Relationships. Any of it.”

“Oh…”

“This is all kind of new territory. Sorry for being dense.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was awful of me. I’m not very good at being peaceful.”

“Honestly…” 

“What?”

“It was kind of hot.”

Phoebe’s jaw dropped. “Okay,” she laughed breathily. “ _ Well _ .”

“I’m just saying!” He held up his hands defensively. “Not the first time I’ve been yelled at by a girl, but definitely the first time I’ve been yelled at by an Amity. It does something, I’m serious.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” said Phoebe. 

“Maybe so.”

She rested her head on his shoulder again. When the wind blew through, she shivered, and he pulled her in closer to his warmth. 

“I’ve never done this either,” said Phoebe. “I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

Peter was quiet. He began to stroke her hair, which felt nice. 

“I didn’t know I  _ could _ leave Abnegation,” she whispered. “I thought, it’s all going to be so simple. I wait for a boy to notice me, ask my dad what he thinks of their family, and then they set up the wedding for us. Three years later we’ll have our own place, one child already, the second on the way. There’s no uncertainty. Nothing unexpected. Everything happens when it’s supposed to.”

“Sounds horrifying,” said Peter. 

“I hated it,” said Phoebe. “Everyone always said that I could never imagine the joy it would bring me, that I can’t judge it too soon. But I hated it. I felt — I felt suffocated. But I didn’t think I could be anything else. And then…” 

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. And then the aptitude test changed everything.

“And I was happy,” she continued. “I came here, and everything seemed right. I can do what I want, love who I want, I can be as selfish and loud and crazy as I want, and I fit right in. It was like second nature to me.”

“Was?”

“It is. It still is.”

“But?”

Phoebe inhaled. “But I’m scared,” she whispered. “I run into this, things like this — meeting a stranger, running off with him, losing my virginity — and I feel great. It’s amazing while it happens. And then everything comes crashing down. I, I get scared, and I feel so guilty, and I get angry with myself that I could let this happen.”

“Let what happen?”

“This! All of this. I feel so wrong, I feel like I’ve just hurt someone, I’m disgusted with myself that I could do this, and I don’t know why I wanted it but I can’t stop wanting more. I feel like I’ve betrayed them. Abnegation. My family. My friends. And I know, logically, I  _ haven’t.  _ But I still feel sick.”

There were tears now, brimming too fast to blink away. Phoebe wiped her hand clumsily over her cheeks and closed her eyes. 

“I’m leaving them behind. And I should feel good about that. But I also feel — I don’t feel like I’m leaving them to  _ go _ somewhere. This is Amity, right? Following your heart, chasing every impulse on the breeze, finding what makes me happy? And this, this is amazing, this makes me happy, but at the same time it feels wrong. It’s not Amity. I’m still lost.”

Peter was quiet for a while. “I don’t know if you noticed,” he said solemnly, “but I’m not Amity either.”

“I know. I know.” Phoebe wrapped her arms around him again and buried her face in his shirt. “God, I just…I’m so sorry. This is the first real conversation we’ve had, and so far I’ve yelled at you, insulted you, and now I’m crying. I’m so bad at being nice.”

“Hey. It’s okay, it’s not like I’m going to tell on you. I wouldn’t do that.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Because he got something out of it. At least, that was what the cynical part of Phoebe’s mind said. She wanted to trust Peter. He had shared parts of himself with her; he was being honest with her, just like she’d asked for. And she was lonely. His touch wasn’t like every casual hug she received from every person in her new faction, twenty times a day, no heart, no meaning. When he touched her, it meant something. But it wasn’t enough to make her forget. She remembered the warnings every Sunday about the wiles of the heart, the twisted nature of the flesh. How her body was a temple that should be left untouched, how the disloyal and promiscuous were the most selfish of all, how men like Peter — and women like herself — were not to be trusted.

“I just want to be dumb and lonely and slutty without getting morals involved!” Phoebe yelled at the sky. “Is that too much to ask?!”

Peter actually laughed, but just as soon he pulled her close and began to rub her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest again. He was so warm and so big. She could sit in his lap and fit there perfectly, and eventually, they moved to sit on the sand and she did. It was getting dark, too dark to see each other’s faces very clearly. When she looked out to the lake, she realized that the moon was beginning to show. Big and round and yellow. Peter rested his chin on the top of her head. 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” said Phoebe. “It probably sounds crazy to you, since you didn’t grow up there. But it’s real, there’s like, different point values for selfish sins — courting without parental consent is bad, having sex before marriage is worse, courting and having sex with a stranger is very very bad, courting outside your faction is practically blasphemy.”

“What happens when you do all four at once?”

“Marcus Eaton comes to your house and drags you out of the faction by your ear. I don’t know.”

“Heh.”

“You win the sin game. Ding ding ding, congratulations, I guess.”

“What’s the prize?”

“Guilt.”

“Pockets full of sea glass?”

“Sure.”

“What am I even going to do with these?” Peter shifted, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a small handful of weathered glass. “Here. You take ‘em.”

“No, I can’t. Put them in a jar, they’re decoration.”

“I live in a bunker. I have eighty roommates. I don’t have room for a jar of sea glass.”

He kept pulling out small handfuls of the stuff, and Phoebe had no choice but to load her pockets. It was a good thing her overalls had five. “This is ridiculous,” Phoebe laughed.

“But I expect you to take good care of them,” said Peter. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get stationed in Picket, get one of those cute little houses. Then we’ll need the decor.”

“We?”

“Sure. You’re welcome to stay.”

“Peter, I…look, it is far too early to be planning a life together.”

“It’s not a plan, it’s a maybe. It’s a who knows.”

“We just met _today.”_

“Maybe I’ll end up first in the class, and you’ll see me on TV.”

“And it’s far too early for that, too.”

“And you’ll turn to your friends and say, ‘Hey, that’s Peter, I was lucky enough to hit that. Once. Maybe more than that.’”

They were facing each other now, Phoebe still in his lap, her hands behind his neck. “Right,” she chuckled.

“And then they’ll be all, ‘Wow, Phoebe, that’s great. First you get that guy, now you’re the leader of Amity, the best Amity ever. What a life.’ And you’ll go, ‘aw, thanks, it wasn’t easy, but I knew I could do it. And it was really hard at the time but hey, we all went through it. It’s okay now.’”

“Actually, I’m not surprised I’m your first relationship, because that was really bad.”

“But you liked it.”

“I liked it despite it being bad.”

When he kissed her, she pressed his face between her hands and held him there. They leaned their foreheads together. 

“I am so stupid,” said Peter.

“Yeah,” said Phoebe breathily. “This was not my best idea.”

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal.”

“I hope not, I don’t think so — I mean, I know inter-faction marriage is illegal, and having kids is out of the question, but that’s not even, um, well, that’s a long way from now.”

“Yeah. No. Let’s not think about that.”

“I know it happens. Like you said, there’s always Picket. But even they’re supposed to be under the radar, and I don’t know if it’s different during initiation. You’re Candor, don’t they teach you this?”

“Sure, in prep classes, but that doesn’t mean I went.”

“Wow.”

“Uh, so…there was a bus that would take you straight from Upper Levels to the Institute of Law, right after seventh hour, so my parents would give me money for the fare. I spent it on skateboarding shoes and a few packs of cigarettes.”

“Oh my god.”

“When my dad found out, he was pissed. Stopped giving me money, since I wasn’t going to the prep classes anyway, so I spent the last four months cleaning the house every day after school.”

“How did he catch you?”

“Are you kidding? Candor’s full of walking lie detectors. He got suspicious and asked; what was I supposed to do?”

Phoebe grinned. “Don’t let them get suspicious.”

He seemed surprised at that, but accepted it. “You’re so weird,” he said. 

“I know.”

“But you’re so cute. You’re cute because you’re weird.”

“Aww…thanks.”

Peter kissed her again. She was getting the hang of kissing. At first it had been awkward and clumsy, neither of them really knowing how to do it, but the more they did it the more it came like second nature. Phoebe sighed as his hands trailed down her sides and settled in the small of her back, tugging gently at her overalls. 

“We should probably talk about this,” Phoebe murmured. “As in…this relationship, and exactly where it’s going.”

“Mm,” said Peter, moving his kisses down her neck. Phoebe closed her eyes to savor the feeling. 

“After…if it would be alright…a round two, maybe?”

He responded by moving his hand down and squeezing her butt, making her gasp. “Great minds think alike,” he chuckled, then added, “Probably should take this back to the Fun Hut, though.”

“That is  _ not  _ what we’re calling it,” said Phoebe. 

“Why not? It’s on the sign.”

“It sounds ridiculous.”

“The Fuck Hut. Because it’s the hut where we fuck. The Summer Fuck Hut.”

He said it with a perfectly straight face, sending Phoebe into a spasm of giggles. “Peter,” she managed. Even in the twilight she could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. She decided she liked it. 

“I’m not wrong,” said Peter. 

“No,” said Phoebe. “No, you’re not.”

He helped her to her feet, with some difficulty as sea glass spilled from her pockets. They fumbled around for a while, trying to collect it all again, and finally Peter resigned to keeping a small handful in his pockets so that Phoebe wouldn’t be literally trailing it behind her. Then, because the topic of pants came up, they grew a bit distracted. He pulled her close and slid one hand under her overalls and crop top while, in turn, her hand tested the taut fabric of his jeans. That first time, she had been a bit nervous, though the thrill of the moment overshadowed it by far. Now she wasn’t nervous at all. She was giddy with anticipation, already knowing what waited for her if she was to undo the buckle of his belt. 

At last, they gathered enough self-control to part, and Peter laced his fingers through Phoebe’s. “C’mon,” he said, tugging her hand. Back up the beach, back north, back to their lonely little shelter in the sand. 

Then a light caught Phoebe’s eye. 

It was to the south. Barely a pinprick. Maybe she would have taken it to be a star, if it wasn’t that low, resting almost on the horizon. Phoebe froze. She almost thought she’d imagined it, but even when she rubbed her eyes it was still there. 

Peter stopped tugging her hand. “What?” he said. 

“Do you see that?” Phoebe asked.

“See what?”

“The light.”

He frowned. “Yeah. So?”

Phoebe swallowed. Her throat was dry and sandy. She looked again to the south and found a small inlet about a quarter mile away. “Do you see that wall? Heading into the water, by the inlet?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the mid wall, the edge of Amity. Until you reach the outer wall, there’s nothing. No one’s supposed to be there.”

And yet, there it was, in between the mid wall and the horizon. A light so bright they could see it from Amity. 

“It’s probably just an outpost,” said Peter. “The guards at the outer wall, they don’t come back to Picket every night, do they?”

“I don’t know,” said Phoebe. “I thought they did.”

For a minute, they stared at the light, as if waiting for it to move. But nothing happened. A cold wind blew in from the lake, and Phoebe shivered. When she looked at Peter, his face was white as a sheet. 

“Don’t like that,” said Peter softly. 

“No,” Phoebe agreed. 

“We should get out of here.”

“Yes, let’s.”

Glancing over their shoulders one last time, as if making sure they weren’t being followed, Peter and Phoebe began to walk quickly up the beach. She wasn’t sure which of them started squeezing the other’s hand until it turned numb, or which of them broke the long, rapid strides into a full run. They were breathless by the time they saw the dim silhouettes of Sunflower and the hut again, and Phoebe couldn’t describe how lucky she felt that the moon was so bright. The lamp posts around the beach were not lit. 

Despite the earlier promise, they sprinted past the Summer Fun Hut, wriggled back under the fence, and dove inside of Sunflower, half-laughing, half-crying. “Holy shit,” Peter kept saying. “Holy fucking shit.”

“That was very not great,” Phoebe breathed.

“Nothing like a good shot of primal terror to end your night.” Peter ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back against the seat before glancing at Phoebe. “I mean...it’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She couldn’t start the engine and turn on the headlights fast enough. “Honestly, I kind of just wanted to run really fast.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“Yeah.”

They started driving.

“You ever feel like you’re that couple in a horror movie?” asked Peter.

“What movie?”

“All of them. All of the horror movies.”

Phoebe was quiet for a little while. “I’ve never seen a horror movie,” she finally admitted. “We didn’t have a TV in Abnegation.”

“That’s…awful.”

“And I doubt that Amity would approve. Of the horror movies, not the TV. We can have TVs.”

Peter nodded.

After a long time, Phoebe laughed and said, “That was dumb. Now I’m anxious  _ and  _ aroused.”

“We can always stop the truck somewhere,” Peter offered.

She scrunched up her nose. “I mean, yeah, but…do we just go outside? I know there’s farmhouses around here, but nothing empty, nothing else like the beach. That’s unique.”

“Let me clarify. We don’t have to  _ leave  _ the truck.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. When it did, Phoebe said, “Ohhh,” and quickly began looking for a place to pull over.

A half hour later, Phoebe lay against Peter’s chest, panting. They were sitting up in the back seat, the windows of Sunflower fogged over with condensation, Peter’s arms wrapped around her in his lap. Like this, they could be eye to eye.

“You’ve probably missed the last train to Dauntless,” said Phoebe. 

Peter smirked. “Good.”

He kissed her with fervor, running his hands through her curls. She was surprised at how easy she could read him — she knew precisely what he liked about her, without him even having to say anything. He said it with his touch. He liked her heart-shaped face, the color and texture of her hair, her delicate wrists and collarbones, the softness of her skin and her lips and her breasts. Everything in such sharp contrast to what he was, hard angles and lines, coarse black hair and tattoos and scars. It was strange, what they said, that a person like him and a person like her weren’t meant to fit together — because the evidence was here, pointing to a different conclusion. 

“Hey,” said Phoebe. “I have a secret.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Promise.”

She leaned in close to his ear. Then she whispered, “I think I have a crush on a kid from Dauntless.”

Peter mock-gasped. “No!”

“Unfortunately,” Phoebe giggled. 

“I have a secret that’s worse,” said Peter. 

“What?”

“I think I have a crush on a kid from Amity.”

“Good heavens,” Phoebe put her hand on her chest. “Peter, can you imagine the scandal?”

He nodded gravely. “I can,” he said. “What would people say?”

“Outrageous. Absolutely absurd. How depraved, how foolhardy.”

“Good adjectives.”

“Thank you! I’ve been doing crossword puzzles.”

He kissed her again. For a while, they just rested, content in each other’s embrace. 

This was probably going to end in disaster, Phoebe’s pessimism said. The winds were changing, carrying a new scent on their breeze. Something was different about this summer. She knew it like she knew her very name. 

But now was not the time for such things. Now was the time to close her eyes, lace her fingers through Peter’s, and rest.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, you're a stronger person than you know.


End file.
